


Reverti

by pocketTherapist



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Crucifixion, Gen, Like Seriously So Much Whump, Past Torture, Redemption, Save Trash Jesus, What am I doing, Whump, idk - Freeform, no beta we die like men, please blame starsilver for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-09-07 18:21:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketTherapist/pseuds/pocketTherapist
Summary: He wakes up to sun on his face.This is new.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is not Bleach. Congratulations for noticing. Please blame my enabler, Starsilver, who dragged me into this fandom and won't let me back out. So have a thing I wrote instead of doing literally anything else.

They're fighting, when it happens-- Ardyn and a handful of demons the likes of which they've never seen before against the four of them. Noctis is trying to keep Ardyn occupied and away from his friends while they, in turn, try to eliminate the demons clawing at all of them. One in particular is giving them trouble, showing an ability worryingly similar to warping. Finally, Gladio flat out tackles the thing, knocking it off balance and almost directly into Ardyn's path, and Prompto puts a bullet between its eyes. 

 

It barely has time to shriek before it's dissolving into black and gold mist. 

 

Ardyn stumbles into it, unable to stop in time, and  _ snarls _ , clawing at his throat as the dust envelops his face. 

 

Noctis leaps backwards in alarm, because if that mist can affect a man who is basically a sack of demons anyway, it'll probably do nothing good to him, either. 

 

Ardyn screams, black pouring from his eyes and mouth, but the look he fixes on Noctis is one of pure fear. 

 

He staggers forward, reaching outward towards Noctis as if pleading for help, and then collapses bonelessly to the ground. 

  
  
  


Ardyn wakes up. He's warm, and relatively comfortable, and it takes him a moment to realize what's wrong. 

 

He's not hanging from his chains, for one. 

 

He jerks awake fully at that, coming to his feet without a thought for the fire that the movement sends down his spine and through his leg. He's unrestrained entirely, and where the hooks were embedded in his flesh are wounds that are already healing. 

 

More importantly, he's not in his cell either; he's outside, and he looks up to see the sun for the first time in… he doesn't know how long. One year? Two? Ten? He'd thought it a mercy when the execution attempts had stopped, but he'd learned quickly that isolation and starvation, and the constant agony from his restraints, were no reprieve at all. 

 

Ardyn had begged, the last time he'd seen Somnus. Sworn to kneel to him, sworn himself to servitude, sworn to leave and never return, offered everything he could possibly want from him, pleaded for anything but the solitude. Even the torture of crucifixion had been better than this. 

 

Somnus had spat in Ardyn's face and walked away. 

 

So what was this, now? A hallucination, maybe? A dream? Either way, Ardyn hopes it'll last as long as possible. 

 

He blinks at the sun again and only then realizes that he's weeping, silent tears streaming down his face. Even as his bad leg gives out beneath him and he crumples to the ground, he's reveling in the sensation of sun warming his skin. 

 

It's almost enough to make him feel human again. 

 

He can hear birdsong, he realizes. And… voices? 

 

The idea sends a jolt of panic through him, and he scrambles to his feet, trying to find somewhere to hide. He can't be found here, wherever here is. Ardyn is a monster, yes, but he doesn't want to go back to the agony. Maybe if he runs far enough from civilization, out where he can't hurt anyone, they'll leave him alone? 

 

He never gets the chance. 

 

The newcomers take two steps forward into the clearing--four of them, warriors all, and he knows the instant they see him that this will not end well. Their faces close off, going hard, and all of them pull weapons from nowhere. The biggest one shoves forward, pressing the others behind him, and Ardyn stumbles backward at the hatred and fear in their gazes. 

 

He raises both hands, palms outward, trying to tell them he's no threat, but there's a distinctive  _ swish  _ from behind him, and Ardyn staggers and falls to his knees as a hundred and thirty pounds of enraged person slams into his back. 

 

He tries to catch himself, but there's a hand in his hair and his head is being wrenched back, the icy edge of a blade at his throat. A low voice snarls, 

 

“You fucker, how _ dare _ you! Enough with the fucking games already!”

 

Oh, Six, they're going to slit his throat and then they'll all be doomed. Ardyn can keep the demons at bay, usually, but it's when he seriously has to heal himself that they take over and do it for him, regardless of his own desire to just _get it over with_ _already_. 

 

“No, please, you can't kill me, you  _ can't,  _ you don't understand!”

 

The man closest to him laughs darkly. 

 

“Oh, we can’t, can we? Why not, this time?”

 

Ardyn isn't sure how he's supposed to answer that, but he doesn't get the chance. The voice behind him, the one apparently giving orders, intervenes sharply. 

 

“Gladio. Knock him out.”

 

The one in front cracks his knuckles. 

 

“With pleasure, your majesty.”

 

The last thing Ardyn sees is the fist coming at his face. 

  
  
  


He wakes up in a terrifyingly familiar position, arms stretched out and bound to either side, feet bound together to the trunk of a tree.

 

He can’t stop the primal noise of fear that tears itself from his throat even as he wrenches at the ropes holding his wrists. 

 

_ No not again I can’t do this again I  _ **_can’t_ ** _ please _

 

The knots hold despite his silent pleas, and Ardyn takes a gasping breath and turns his attention to his captors. They're the youths from earlier--a bespectacled, sharp-eyed man, next to the muscular, dark haired one responsible for knocking him out earlier. Behind them, not quite hiding, is the smallest, a nervous blonde with too much energy. And on the far left, brilliant blue eyes darkened with hatred, stands… Somnus? 

 

Ardyn flinches back against the tree he's bound to. What does his brother want now? Why release him, only to recapture him? Who are these new companions? 

 

The icy looks directed at him aren't new, but the fury that accompanies it certainly is. He hasn't  _ done _ anything, he's been exactly where they left him. 

 

Rage aside, Somnus looks good. More youthful, even, than Ardyn remembers. Perhaps the Crystal has granted its own boon to he who defeated the Accursed.

 

Ardyn wants to scoff. Or cry, maybe. Instead he gathers the remnants of what used to be his courage and finds his voice, hoarse though it is with disuse and fear. 

 

Carefully,  _ carefully.  _ Don't set him off. 

 

“Your majesty. How may I be of service?”

 

He can't kneel at his brother's feet, bound as he is, but he drops his head in as low of a bow as he can manage. 

 

The little blonde one snarls at him, fear and rage warring in his features. 

 

“Stop pretending already, bastard! We all know the truth now.  _ Demon.” _

 

Somnus and the one with glasses step forward, and Ardyn tries to brace himself. He doesn't know what they want from him, but he knows it's nothing good. 

 

He's not human anymore, he's a  _ thing _ , and it's all the difference in the world to his once-brother.

 

Glasses looks at him coldly, clinical in his disdain. 

 

“What is your endgame? Why have you been toying with us?”

 

Ardyn's hands curl helplessly around the scars in his palms. He knows this line of questioning. In the name of rooting out the final evil, they justify _ anything _ to themselves. The fear coiling in his gut intensifies, and he tugs uselessly at his bindings. 

 

“I...I don't _ have _ any evil plans, I told you, I just… Look, just let me leave, please, you'll never have to see me again. I won't hurt anyone, I swear--”

 

A heavy backhand cuts him off, and Ardyn lets his head roll with the blow. It's easier if he doesn't resist. 

 

Somnus looks  _ livid _ , and Ardyn cringes away from him as much as he can. He should be ashamed, being so terrified of his little brother, but he can't help it. Somnus was the one who took the throne from him, turned the public against him, and Ardyn had believed it mere jealousy from the teen right up until his arrest. Even at the trial, even being led through the streets to his crucifixion, some part of him continued to believe in his brother. 

 

That part died an agonizing death as the first nail was driven through his wrist. 

 

His hands tingle with remembered agony and he can't help but wonder why they haven't already started. 

 

Ardyn keeps his head down, watching his brother's feet, wondering if there's anything he can say to defuse the situation, or if his fate this time around is already set in stone, as it had been with all the others. 

 

It's not like he can lose anything by trying, right? 

 

“Brother, please, whatever I have done to offend you, I am  _ sorry,  _ truly.”

 

It's the wrong answer, he knows immediately. All four faces around him have darkened with wrath, when he risks a glance, and Somnus is trembling with the force of his fury. 

 

“Whatever you did?  _ Whatever you did?? _ Well, where should I start? How about with the overthrow of the kingdom I was supposed to be protecting. The razing of my home city.  _ The death of my father. _ Let’s not mention all the  _ bullshit _ you’ve put us through!”

 

The little blonde one is shaking, too, but it doesn’t look like anger. He pipes up, quietly, from behind the bodyguard.

 

“And what you did to me. Dick move, bro.” 

 

Glasses looks at him sharply, though, motioning for silence from the others with a sudden, quiet intensity. 

 

“Wait. What did you call him?”


	2. Chapter 2

Glasses looks at him sharply, though, motioning for silence from the others with a sudden, quiet intensity. 

 

“Wait. What did you call him?”

 

“Apologies, your majesty. Forgive my familiarity, I beg of you.”

 

“No. What did you actually  _ say? _ ”

 

The command whips out at him, and Ardyn repeats it quietly even as he braces for the next blow. Do these new attendants not know of the connection between their king and the Accursed? 

 

“... brother. I called him brother.”

 

Somnus pauses and gives him a long, contemplative look, then trades glances with Glasses.

 

“Ardyn. Who is this?”

 

Glasses gestures at the king, and Ardyn plays along obediently, confused as to what game they are playing but willing to comply in hopes of gentler treatment for even a moment more.

 

“That is the king--Somnus Lucis Caleum, second king of Lucis, defeater of the Accursed.”

 

He hunches his shoulders as much as he can--his feet are on the ground, but the way his arms are stretched is starting to restrict his breathing regardless--and hopes he’s given the right answer. 

 

The group trades glances again, and then withdraws entirely. Ardyn can hear little, but the hushed whispers and furious gestures make it relatively obvious that they're talking about him. Debating what to do with him, perhaps? 

 

Ardyn shivers, confused and miserable, acutely aware that he's wearing only a thin pair of linen pants, stretched out on a tree for the second time in his life, waiting for his brother to decide how to try to kill him this time. 

 

He'd almost rather they try burning him at the stake again. Anything but crucifixion, really. But Somnus is certainly aware of the nightmares Ardyn suffered after that first execution, back before they'd given up on killing him and moved him to Angelgard. If his brother is attempting to frighten him, it's working. What does he _ want _ ? This interrogation doesn't make any sense at all. 

 

They haven't even hurt him yet. 

 

For that matter, why is he outside? Angelgard has a fully equipped dungeon; if they just wanted information, or merely his suffering, there would have been no need to move him. 

 

For a moment he wonders if he's hallucinating again, but the rawness of his wrists, the pull of his scars where his position stretches them, and the sheer detail of the wind and sun on his skin gives lie to that idea. Which means that he's lost time. Between the last thing he remembers--passing out of pain and exhaustion in Angelgard--and now, something has happened and he doesn’t remember it. 

 

That’s not a good sign. What if he  _ has _ done something horrible? He contains the demons within his own flesh, now, and if he's not in control, he can't make sure  _ they _ aren't. 

 

It would explain why he's outdoors, why he's being hunted, why there's so much fury being directed at him. 

 

It would mean Somnus is right, has  _ always _ been right, about his being a threat. 

 

It would mean that the attempts at execution and subsequent imprisonment were _ just.  _

 

The big one breaks away from the group and approaches again, something wary creeping over his features beneath the scowl. Ardyn drops his eyes submissively, only to startle when a finger is suddenly thrust in his face. 

 

“That! That's different, you didn't do that before, even when you were pretending to be harmless. So, I want to know,  _ what changed _ ?” 

 

Ardyn's confusion temporarily overwhelms his fear. 

 

“My lord, I have never met you before in my life, nor your companions, save for His Majesty. Unless, perhaps, you were one of the Stricken? In which case, I must apologize; I have healed too many to keep track of.”

 

There’s another flurry of hushed conversation, of which Ardyn can only catch the word “illusion,” and then Somnus asks flatly,

 

“Who are you?”

 

Ardyn has never been more confused in his  _ life _ . 

 

He plays along obediently, though, hoping in some way that clarification would be forthcoming. 

 

“I am Ardyn Lucis Caelum, elder brother to Somnus Lucis Caelum, and former First King of Lucis. I am also, more recently, known as the Accursed.”

 

He tips his head in something just shy of defiance, watching their reaction to news they should already know. 

 

Somnus  _ gapes _ at him. That’s new. His brother has ever hated to be seen as less than utterly composed. 

 

The little blonde one bounds forward to join the big one, peering at Ardyn as if trying to divine the future in his features.

 

“So, dude, you don’t know  _ any  _ of us? …I mean, except Noct, but I’m pretty sure you’re mistaking him for someone else.” 

 

Ardyn frowns at him, tugging idly at his bonds in one of his more recently developed habits--since fidgeting when suspended from chains was a bit limited on options. 

 

“That is not the king?”

 

“No, no, it’s definitely the king, it’s just… not the king you’re thinking of.” The blonde one shuffles nervously, glances over his shoulder, and then, when no one moves to stop him, continues. “This is Noctis Lucis Caelum, the hundred and fourteenth king of Lucis.”

 

Now Ardyn is the one who’s gaping unattractively. 

 

“I beg your pardon?” 

 

The group as a whole clusters in front of him again, and Ardyn is too dumbfounded to even remember to be uncomfortable. 

 

Glasses leans forward and says, calmly,

 

“We must consider the possibility that you have been transported from your time into ours. We were, after all, fighting a demon with powers we had not previously encountered.”

 

Ardyn scowls at him. There should be no demons any more, not after all he went through to rid the world of them. 

 

Although, a hundred or more generations later, it’s entirely possible that they don’t  _ know _ what he’s done, what the title of “Accursed” truly means. The blonde one called him “Demon” right at the beginning, though, which indicates that they at least recognize what he is. 

 

It’s a heavy thought, the idea that Ardyn might have failed to purge the Starscourge in its entirety, but he  _ must _ have, somehow, if he and these boys were fighting demons. Perhaps they had not realized who he was before whatever event caused the switch? 

 

“How did I get away from Angelgard? Did one of Somnus’ descendents release me?”

 

His captors exchange glances, and Ardyn doesn't think he'll like what comes next. Eventually, Glasses offers, 

 

“We don't know how you escaped. Before we met you, we'd never heard of the Accursed.”

 

Ardyn winces. 

 

Somnus--no, Noctis--laughs wryly. 

 

“Yeah, bit of a surprise there. Especially considering you were trying to kill us at the time.”

 

What? 

 

“What? Why? You are my brother's blood, why would I try to… to kill any of you?”

 

Their faces darken again. 

 

“You are… not particularly nice, in this time. You killed the last Lucian king, Noctis’ father, and Lady Lunafreya, the Oracle and Noctis’ betrothed. You oversaw the annihilation of Galhad, and were part of the Niflheim peace talks, only to betray them immediately with the overthrow of Lucis. You tortured Prompto for nearly a week. You oversaw the introduction of the scourge into human vessels to create endless numbers of mindless MagiTeck soldiers. You personally led a Niflheim contingent to slaughter Glacia, when she rose in protest of the making of the MTs. And this only during our lifetime. The last few months, you have made our life a living hell, not to put too fine a point on it.”

 

There's silence after Glasses stops talking. All three of the others are nodding in agreement. Ardyn does not doubt them. 

 

No wonder that they are so furious. He's stripped  _ everything _ from them, hurt them personally. The skittish little blonde one must be Prompto, then. He wishes there were an apology he could make that would actually mean something. 

 

It'll be harder, this time, knowing he rly wholly deserves the suffering inflicted on him. He hopes they find a measure of closure in it, even if he cannot die to atone fully. 

 

He swallows hard. He  _ is _ a monster, just as Somnus feared. Just as Bahamut said. Briefly,  _ bitterly,  _ he wonders why the gods allowed his birth at all, why they did not strike him down as a child. Surely another could end the Scourge without becoming… whatever he was, now? 

 

The burly dark-haired one--the Shield, he must be, but he's so _ young,  _ they all are--finally gets fed up with the silence and demands, 

 

“Well? Nothing to say for yourself?”

 

Ardyn closes his eyes, shakes his head. He will not even attempt to deny them their justice, no matter that he has no memory of his deeds. It's still  _ him. _ Besides, as the Accursed, all sins are laid on his shoulders, anyway. 

 

He pulls in a labored breath against the ropes and waits. 


	3. Chapter 3

The group withdraws again, and Ardyn focuses on breathing through the panic threatening to overwhelm him. He doesn't  _ want _ this, even if he does deserve it. But what he wants doesn't matter, hasn't for a very long time. So he fights for breath and tries to still the tremble of his limbs and keeps his eyes upward, watching the sky. 

 

This debate doesn't last very long. Eventually Glasses, who must be the King's Hand, approaches again, the Shield at his side. He crouches wordlessly at Ardyn's bare feet, and he can't stop the instinctive sound of terror that tears itself from his throat as he struggles uselessly against his bonds. Instead of the press of a nail against the scars, though, the man summons a knife from the Armiger. 

 

Starting gently? Or do they have something else in mind? 

 

The knife slices easily through the ropes binding his feet and Ardyn pushes upward against the tree reflexively, pulling in a deeper breath than he's thus been able to catch. The next moment, the Hand cuts through the restraints on both wrists, and Ardyn collapses forward into the Shield's waiting hold. 

 

Ardyn allows himself to be manhandled, his mind too blank with fear to allow for curiosity. The pair drag him over to where the group's settled. Noctis looks up at him, and Ardyn is folding into a kneel before he's even registered that he's been released. He places his head on the ground at the King's feet, managing only a rasping,

 

“Your Majesty.”

 

Noctis sounds uncomfortable, possibly at being so close to his former tormentor, or the Accursed. 

 

“Ardyn. You don't have to… bow, or whatever.”

 

Carefully, Ardyn straightens, bemused by the allowance and the use of his name both. He's not been called anything but Demon or Accursed in  _ years.  _ It's not like he's human, after all. 

 

He keeps his head low anyway, murmurs a quiet, 

 

“My thanks, your majesty. How may I serve?”

 

He straightens his back despite the twinge in his spine, claps his hands behind him. It's posture more suited to a slave than a prince, but he hasn't been a prince in a very long time, and Somnus always enjoyed seeing his displays of subservience. No doubt another manifestation of his brother's hatred. Perhaps seeing him humbled will assuage something in these people as well. 

 

The blonde one--Prompto--grimaces at him, looking distinctly discomfited. Ardyn doesn't think he's supposed to hear the whispered, 

 

“Dude, this is  _ so weird _ .”

 

Noctis nods fervent agreement, and Ardyn feels another pang of pain and anger at what his other self must have become, to do this to them. Even the Shield and Hand look like they agree. 

 

Finally, the Hand says, 

 

“Your majesty, we should get to a shelter. We've only a few hours before sundown; we can't afford to be caught out in the dark like this.”

 

The group as a whole agrees, and Ardyn finds himself hauled to his feet in short order. They bind his hands behind him, and the Shield takes hold of one arm. Ardyn doesn't protest as he's dragged along, just keeps up as best he can. Part of him hopes they don't have far to go, but he's not overly hopeful. He has terrible visions of being dragged behind a chocobo again, until he's too exhausted to continue with the stumble that his run became after his injury and he's just dragged until he gets his feet under him again, over and over in a vicious cycle. 

 

Instead, after a few minutes, they exit the woods and are greeted by a massive metal contraption, like a carriage but much too heavy to be pulled by chocobos. No doubt self-propelled, somehow. 

 

He hopes it's slower than a chocobo. It doesn't look like it will eventually get tired of dragging him. 

 

Instead of rigging a halter for him, though, he's escorted into the back seat, flanked on either side by the Hand and Shield. His relief at finally being able to sit is clearly obvious to the Shield, who gives him an odd look, then asks what he'd done to his leg. 

 

Ardyn ducks his head, humiliated despite himself, and explains about the demon he'd tried to heal that had been…somewhat less than appreciative. The accident had nearly severed his lower spine, and he'd almost lost his leg as well, had the one he'd healed not run for help immediately upon coming back to themselves. 

 

The Hand immediately cuts in, sounding vaguely horrified, 

 

“Wait, you used to be a  _ healer _ ?”

 

Ardyn glances over at him. 

 

“I have considered myself such before I was ever a king. I do not know when my counterpart stopped remembering the oaths we swore before the gods.”

 

This, at least, he has never failed in. 

 

Not yet, anyway. 

 

The Hand frowns, pushing his glasses up on his nose. 

 

“Then why would they cast you out, if you had not violated your oaths?”

 

Ardyn smiles at that, bitterly and without humor. 

 

“There was only one way to heal the Scourge. I took it into myself, kept it contained. I had thought, after cleansing the land, to die and take it with me. But my brother, Somnus, grew frightened of what was happening. I cannot presume to know his motives entirely, but I believe he was jealous of my position. The Chosen One, indeed.”

 

He scoffs, lost in his own story.

 

“For all I assured him that I was still myself, despite the corruption, he did not believe me. Or pretended not to, anyway. He turned the people against me, and they grew frightened. And then Bahamut--or his Oracle, anyway--turned his back on me. They denounced me as a monster, a demon, the Accursed. There was a second prophecy made then, of another who would slay me and rid the land of the Scourge forever. Somnus believed it to be himself. He… I… well. At any rate, I'm sure you can guess what happened next.”

 

The king's Shield is giving him an incredulous look. 

 

“They tried to kill you?”

 

Ardyn tips his head back against the seat, ignoring the humming of the carriage. 

 

“They tried to kill me. Repeatedly. It didn't  _ work _ , clearly, but they must have tried just about everything. When it became clear that I was not to die at Somnus’ hand, they sealed me away in Angelgard to await the true Chosen One. Poor soul. I can only hope the gods do not betray them as they did me.”

 

The Shield coughs. 

 

“So you were in Angelgard and then just, what, went to sleep there and woke up here? How long had you been there, by then?”

 

Ardyn nods tiredly. 

 

“I used to keep count of the years by the passing of the seasons, but I lost count by the twentieth year. I do not know how many years it has been since. Perhaps thirty-five or thirty-six.”

 

The Shield and Hand exchange glances that Ardyn pretends not to see. He would almost consider it pity, were he not their captive. He'll take what sympathy he can get, though. It's not like he can afford to do otherwise. Pride hasn't been something he's cared about in  _ years.  _ Not since Somnus decided that Ardyn would be better broken. 


End file.
